


Cuts and Snips

by heyitsjakc



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:44:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2011371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyitsjakc/pseuds/heyitsjakc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a one-shot in which Dean is a hairdresser whose newest client is much more than just a pretty face...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cuts and Snips

Dean Winchester liked to think his job was nothing more than extraordinary, even if no one else seemed to say it. 

Granted, being a hairdresser wasn’t exactly the best of professions in terms of the payroll, but hey, if you love what you do, then money doesn’t really matter as much.

He hadn’t intended to become a hairdresser, not at all; Dean was stuck on the train of thought in high school that he would fix cars and bang hot chicks (or the lucky guys) until the sun went down, where he would enjoy in the company of Jose Cuervo and Jack Daniels. He had always believed that the plan his father had set out for him, and John Winchester was not one to budge.

But, during the times his father would be passed out on the couch or in some place that  _wasn’t_ home, and whenever Sam needed a haircut, Dean could indulge in his little fantasy.

Every time, he would sit his little brother down in a chair, make sure that the little blanket was placed around his neck so that it would catch the moose’s errant hair, and Dean would masterfully cut it just so. Sam could never say it out loud, but those moments were his favorite memories in his early life, especially when his brother would impersonate the women he had been in the company of when he had gotten his haircut in an actual salon, lisp and gum-chewing all perfectly parroted for maximum effect. Sam would almost be in tears, and Dean would have to ask him to keep still or else he could shave an entire section off of his head.

Later, during his final years of high school, Dean took cosmetology courses in secret, all of them in hair treatment and care. All of the ladies there, and some of the guys, were quite surprised that someone like him was even taking the courses seriously, and they all came to like him immensely. 

When he graduated from high school with a diploma (which Dean displayed proudly in his photographs), he worked up the courage to tell his father that he wanted to pursue hairdressing as his career and not becoming a mechanic. 

The following argument was explosive, and it ended when Dean left his house, bags all packed, and his father drunkenly calling him derogatory names from the porch. 

With a little money, Dean relocated from Kansas to New York, where he worked for a hair salon- but not in the way he pictured. He was their grunt, the guy who swept up the hair and cleaned the place until it was spotless. He hated his job, especially because of the manager: a nasally and rude man named Alastair, who tried very hard to get Dean to let him in his pants.

Either way, he decided to put his best foot forward, and he continued working, all the while absorbing information from the customers and the staff, who liked him much more than Alastair did.

Pamela was their resident colorist, and was a master of dyes. She taught him which dyes to use for certain types of people, and improved his technique along the way.

Charlie, a vibrant red-head, was the receptionist, and Dean spent many a break talking with her about the most recent episodes of Dr. Sexy, as well as planning upcoming LARPing events.

Benny was the only other male employee, and he was one of the hairdressers that was always on duty, A big, bearish man, the Cajun helped Dean out with anything he asked for, whether it was tips on cutting thin hair or layering dyed hair to make it look better. He also made a killer gumbo, and every Friday, he became their god when he brought it in.

All the while, Dean was kind of unhappy, until one day, one of the staff didn’t show up for work, and Alastair was hard-pressed for replacements. The rest of the staff vehemently appealed to him to let Dean have a go, and he reluctantly said yes.

It was a very good decision on his part.

Dean layered, cut, dyed, trimmed, and even styled hair like a master, and soon, he became one of the salon’s most requested hairdressers, to the jealousy of no one. Even though he was more than competent in the salon, he never said a bad word to anyone, and the rest of his now coworkers agreed that he was one of the best people they had ever met.

And so life went, with customer after customer and check after check with added tips, until the salon was serving very high-up clients. 

Then, one day, a very wealthy client came into the salon, asking politely for Dean Winchester.

"DEAN! YOU GOT A CLIENT!" Charlie yelled.

Dean, who had just finished cleaning his scissors and sweeping the leftover hair into a small pile, looked up expectantly, and said, “Thanks, Charlie.”

The man walked calmly to his area, and as Dean looked up into his face, he had to struggle to control himself. 

The man had a very beautiful face, with angular cheekbones that made him looked both severe and kind, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to stare into his very soul. He was also pretty fit, even under the trench coat and suit and adorably inside-out blue tie. His hair was long, around shoulder length, and Dean’s mind whirred into action, trying to find the best way to both flatter and to tame the raven hair.

"Sit down, please." Dean said, turning his revolving chair so that he could better settle into it. 

"Do you have any requests, Mr…." 

"Novak. Castiel Novak."

"That’s a nice name, Cas. The Angel of Thursday, right?"

Castiel smiled softly, and looked at his hairdresser in the mirror as he set about getting his materials together. He couldn’t help but look at his ass, and he blushed violently as the two men locked eyes in the mirror.

"No requests, really. Just that it needs to be shorter, maybe closer to my head."

"Okay, Cas. I’ll get right on it."

And so Dean set about cutting this man’s long hair. It was thick, almost beautifully so, and he set it aside in his mind as something to remember for later. He went through all of the necessary steps, dampening the mass of hair, making sure his scissors were clean enough, as well as picking ones that could even cut the mane in front of him.

"So, Cas, whattya do for a living?"

Cas had to struggle to keep his voice from wavering at the nickname Dean had given him as he said, “I’m a professor at the university.”

"Really? That’s awesome, Cas. In what field?"

"Classic Literature, Mythology, and Religious Studies."

Dean tried to keep a frown from his face at that, wincing inwardly at his chances. This guy was into religious studies, he was probably homophobic and that was a definite point in the ‘no date’ category.

"That’s nice. Are you the cool professor or the stuffy one?"

"I’d like to think cool, but who knows at this point."

"Well, for the benefit of the doubt, I’ll just go with cool professor."

Cas smiled again, wider this time, and Dean’s stomach erupted into butterflies. The scissors clicked and snipped into the following silence, Cas’s hair getting shorter and shorter until he could see his neck for the first time in years. He hadn’t meant to let his hair grow this much, but writing your thesis had its drawbacks.

"So, are you single? Dating? Engaged?"

"Single." came the short reply.

Dean looked at him in disbelief.

"Single? Really? I’m surprised someone hasn’t snatched you up already, with your eyes and your cheekbones."

Cas raised an eyebrow playfully, to which Dean blushed furiously and winced internally for telling the guy how beautiful he was.

"Well, not a lot on the market for a gay Classics and Religious Studies professor who’s nearing 30."

Dean blushed again, and on the inside, he cheered. He was gay and single and perfect. Maybe he ought to give it a shot.

"Enough about me. What about you, Dean? How did you get into this business?"

And so the focus shifted from him to Dean, and the next five minutes were spent explaining his life growing up, his father’s disapproval of both his sexuality and his choice of career, and gushing praise about his brother. Cas was not one to ruminate on life’s beauties, especially being so damn busy all the time, but he was struck dumb by how amazing Dean’s eyes looked when he talked about Sam. They seemed to glow like emeralds in the light, and he didn’t know he was staring until the conversation had dwindled into silence.

Ten minutes later, Dean had finally finished cutting Cas’s hair, and though it stuck up at odd angles no matter how hard he wrangled it, he thought he did a good job. Cas seemed to like it as well, blushing and touching it every so often.

They walked together up to the desk, talking and talking through Charlie’s swiping of his credit card until it was painfully obvious that it was time for him to leave. 

Just as Dean was about to turn away, Cas said, “Hey, uh, Dean?”

He turned and smiled at him, the smile growing wider as Cas shifted from one foot to the other, blushing violently. 

"My classes end around 3:30, do you want to go out for a coffee or something?"

"Sure," Dean said softly, smile still growing. "I would love to." 

"Cool." Cas said, sounding very relieved, before backing into the doorframe. Dean struggled not to laugh, and Cas looked at him bashfully before departing with a "See you at 3:30!"

Sighing contentedly, he turned around to see Benny, Pamela, and Charlie sniggering at him. 

"What?" he said, still smiling.


End file.
